Children of X
by Gravebound
Summary: The Rowdyruff Boys meet in a class at the beginning of senior year, and eventually discover a sinister secret about their buried-away past. Rated M for strong language, may have adult themes as time goes on. (Previously named Eternal)
1. First Day

"Fuck, I'm late," Boomer whispered to himself in disgust. He hurried down the hall, eyes frantically darting between the schedule in his hand and his surroundings. Despite starting senior year today, he had no idea where this class was, and his drawstring backpack slapped against his back as he walked down the unforgiving near-empty hall.  
Finally, his eyes met with a plate on the wall bearing the number "420", and he snickered to himself. Pushing some shaggy blonde hair out of his face, he breathed deeply and turned the knob. His half-smile vanished as he was met with a crowd of 30+ students crammed up against the same wall that held the door. Someone shut the door behind him and he subconsciously scooted over, further into the crowd. Boomer's fingers begin to throb as they often did when he was anxious, and he rubbed them halfheartedly. He scanned the crowd, looking for someone who was hopefully as anxious as he was. His blue eyes landed on some guy on the other side of the door who was nervously twitching.  
He was tall, taller than anyone else in the room, definitely over six feet. He had a thick, but neatly trimmed chinstrap beard that was the same jet black as his thick eyebrows and spiked-up hair. He was particularly pale; paler than Boomer, even. He wore heavy black eyeshadow, making his dark green eyes look sunk in. He was checking over the crowd as well, and he met Boomer's gaze for a few seconds before continuing to dart around, like he hadn't even noticed the blonde staring at him. Boomer shyly turned his gaze on his black converse and sighed. He ached for his warm bed and the solitude it offered.  
"Okay, class, settle down," A piercing female voice rang out. A particularly petite woman stepped forward, her presence commanding respect from most of the students. "Sorry to make you all wait, I was preparing the seating arrangement."  
A chorus of groans rang out throughout the room, several people turning to each other to mutter.  
"Now, now. If you're a good class, I may let you pick your seats later on. But on to the arrangement. Quiet down, please."  
Once again, the crowd of students hushed. Boomer shifted his weight and began to massage his fingers again.  
"I'll be going in reverse alphabetical order. You'll find I like to do that often, so I suggest you get used to it. Whitney Young, please step forward."  
Boomer watched as a couple of kids were picked out of the crowd and spread across the room, and with each ascending name, the hand his was massaging switched.  
"Butch Mitchelson," The teacher called out, and the tall guy with the beard stepped forward. Boomer got a good look at him now. He towered over the teacher, and he was solidly built. He was literally a wall of muscle, and he looked a little too old to be in high school. This class was for people that had failed Chemistry last year, after all.  
The teacher gestured to the only remaining empty table, a lonely number stashed in the back of the classroom by a window. Butch had to slide in front of Boomer to get by. He smelled of Axe, and his giant, spiked boots could have easily ripped the toe of Boomer's sneaker off. He plunked down in the farthest-back seat and placed on hand on his thick thigh and supported his head with the other.  
Three more students got called up and sorted, and then Boomer's heart dropped directly into his feet.  
"Boomer Keane," She called. He nervously stepped forward and waved a little. "You'll be sitting with Mr. Mitchelson over there," She said as she gestured towards Butch. The blonde gulped and nodded as he cautiously made his way towards the desk. As he approached the table, a very deep, rough voice slid out of Butch's lips.  
"Nice shirt," He said with a wide smile, pointing to Boomer's Fall Out Boy tee shirt. The blonde looked down at his shirt nervously, then met Butch's gaze again.  
"Thanks," He said with a half-chuckle. He slid into the seat next to Butch without thinking, and he froze up immediately when he realized.  
"You okay?"  
"Y-yeah," He muttered as he slid his backpack off and sat it on the table.  
"Dude, is that a Triforce? That's pretty fucking cool." Boomer smiled nervously, and slid his thumb over the design on his backpack.  
"Yeah, I love Zelda."  
"Awesome."  
Boomer shifted anxiously as silence passed over the pair again. Two empty chairs at the table remained, on the other side, and the teacher was already in the b's. Someone else had to be joining them soon.  
"Brick Bellum," The teacher's voice called, and the two watched as a lanky, scrawny guy in grey board shorts and a backwards baseball cap stepped forward. His long red hair was pulled back into a ponytail that hung over his shoulder. "You'll be sitting with Butch and Boomer in the back." Brick stuffed his hands into the pocket of his hoodie disgruntedly and headed towards their table. Loud squeaking noises rang out as he walked, his grey converse too new to not be an annoyance. He nearly threw himself into the chair and looked up at his new tablemates. Boomer waved sheepishly, and he nodded in response.  
"Dude, your eyes are fucking red." Butch said, in awe.  
"And yours are fucking green." He shot back.  
"Do you wear contacts or somethin'?"  
"No, I don't. They're just fucking red. Do you dye your hair, or is it naturally emo?"  
"Nope, my ball hair is emo too," He replied as his eyebrows lowered.  
"I didn't need to know that shit." Butch laughed in response. "Speaking of emo," Brick said, glancing at Boomer, who was fiddling with his stud bracelets, "isn't that the band with the fat singer?"  
Boomer melted back into his seat, subconsciously sucking in his own chubby gut, which didn't help much. "He's... not fat anymore, actually." He replied awkwardly.  
"Lay off him, man. Can't you tell he's nervous as shit?" Butch growled.  
"Whatever," The redhead scoffed. Butch turned back to Boomer.  
"So what's your favorite band, dude?" Boomer glanced up at him and then back down to his shirt and tugged on it. "Yeah, they're pretty damn good, despite the fuckin' killjoy over there." He side-eyed Brick so hard, the blonde could feel it.  
"What's yours?" He creaked.  
"Oh, man." Butch reclined, staring at the ceiling for a second before scooting closer to him. "You ever heard of this cartoon Metalocalypse?"  
Boomer nodded. "Yeah, I like it."  
"Fuckin' Dethklok, man." The blonde laughed shyly.  
"Cool, no one cares." Butch stared down Brick.  
"I need to ask ya somethin'."  
"What?"  
Butch climbed up on the desk over to Brick. He took in a breath.  
"Do you like coffee?" He growled in his best Nathan Explosion impression. Boomer burst out laughing, and Brick rolled his eyes.  
"Excuse me, I'm trying to teach." The teacher barked at the trio. Boomer nervously sputtered to a stop and sunk back into his chair, while Butch continued to laugh to himself.  
"So, what did this teacher say her name was?"


	2. Brick Bellum

Thunk, thunk, thunk.  
Heavy steps, covered by worn-down sneakers. A flash of long red hair, and then another.  
"Why don't you buy new shoes?"  
Brick looked up to his walking partner. "Why should I?"  
"They're falling apart."  
"They're fine."  
She sighed. "Brick, you do this every time you need to buy something. You've got money, just do it. You shouldn't be walking around in crappy shoes."  
He rolled his eyes and looked away. "You don't get it."  
"I guess I don't." The pair resumed walking and after a quiet moment, the girl spoke again. "So, how was your first day of senior year?"  
"Sucked ass, but when doesn't it?"  
"I don't know, I enjoyed my high school years."  
"You'd enjoy watching paint dry."  
"No, I just enjoy the chance to learn. So many kids don't get that chance."  
"Wish I were one of them."  
"Brick," She said sternly.  
"Bloss," He countered. A glaring moment, followed by a couple minutes of silence.  
"So... I was wondering if I could come to your graduation this year." He looked up at her.  
"Why?"  
"I love watching graduations, they're so inspiring. Besides, you're my friend. I know it's next year, but still. I'm really hoping you graduate."  
"Don't get your hopes up. I'm going to drop out."  
"What? Why?"  
"School isn't for me, man. I'm gonna drop out and get a job."  
"Why would you need a job? Your mom even said you wouldn't have to unless you moved out."  
"I am going to move out."  
"Why would you? You have such a sweet arrangement. Your mom isn't hardly even home, so you have that place all to yourself."  
"Need my own place."  
She shook her head. "Brick, you're really weird."

* * *

Brick threw his backpack on the table. "Did I tell you I sit next to this weird fucker in first period?"  
"No?"  
"He wears fucking makeup and he's like ten foot tall. Sat there and growled at me like a fucking animal."  
"Is that the class with Ms. Anna?"  
"Yeah."  
"What did she do about it?"  
"Just told him to shut up, I don't fucking know. He was an asshole. Kept picking fights with me over this blonde kid that sits at the table too. For no reason."  
"You sure you didn't instigate him?"  
He stared at her. "When do I ever start shit?"  
"Don't even get me started," She said. "What did he look like?"  
"Uh, he had green eyes I think. Black hair and beard. Really tall and muscular. Wore those stupid spike things on his wrists."  
She looked at him. "What did the blonde guy look like, again?"  
He looked up at the ceiling. "Um... blue eyes, and he was fat. And he wore glasses."  
"Do you remember their names?" She walked closer to him.  
"Don't remember the blonde kid's name, but I think the asshole's name was Butch? I'm not sure. Why do you want to know?"  
She turned her gaze away. "No reason, just curious. They sounded like some people I know."  
"Ah. Well, hey, you know you're welcome to whatever you want in the fridge, my mom won't notice. I'm going upstairs."  
"I'll be taking my leave then, but thank you anyway. I have to go talk to my sisters." She hurriedly walked towards the door.  
"Hey, Bloss?"  
She stopped and looked back at him. "Yeah?"  
"Tell Buttercup I said hi."


	3. Boomer Keane

"You okay?"  
"Huh?" Boomer looked up and over at her.  
"You seem a little more distant than normal is all," She chirped.  
"Oh," He glanced away again and rubbed the back of his neck. "Just thinkin' 'bout stuff."  
"What kinda stuff?" She zoomed in front of him and leaned in to his face, causing him to bump into her.  
"Just stuff."  
"Hey Boom, can I talk to you about something?" She cocked her head to the side.  
"Yeah?"  
"Listen," She said quietly as she landed back on the sidewalk. "I know you're gay, but I just want to get this off my chest."  
"Huh?"  
"I... I've kind of had a crush on you for a long time now."  
"Oh. Uh... I'm sorry, I guess, I don't know why you do," He said, rubbing his fingers behind his back.  
"Because you're cute and funny, and you're going to make some guy really happy one day!" Her smile was so big, it had hints of being forced.  
He laughed nervously. "I doubt it."  
"C'mon," She poked his cheek. "I bet you got a crush on someone right now, don't you?" She floated back to his side, and they began walking again.  
"Well there's one guy I met earlier that's kinda cute, but I don't think I got a crush on him..."  
"I knew it! What's he like? What does he look like? You gotta tell me!" She grabbed his shoulder and shook him.  
"Oh my god," He laughed. "No, he's just some guy. I don't even remember his first name or anything."  
"Come on, Boom, tell me about him!"  
"Well, uh... he's really tall... and he's got black hair, and these really pretty green eyes..."  
"Awww, Boomer's got a crush!"  
"No I don't, fuck off."  
"No, you fuck off!" She playfully shoved him. "But you don't remember his name?"  
"I sit next to him in first, I could just ask him tomorrow."  
"Or ask him out."  
"Dude, shut up." He looked away in embarrassment.  
"I knew it."  
"I don't even know the guy, I just think he's hot."  
"I can hear the wedding bells already!" She cheered.  
He growled.

* * *

Boomer threw himself on his bed and sent a blue-cased pillow flying onto the floor.  
"Can I play your 64?"  
"Why are you even asking?"  
She giggled. He grabbed his 3DS off his nightstand and cocked one leg over the other.  
Just as Bubbles sat down by the console, a loud ringing ripped through the room.  
"Oh crap, that's me, one sec," She said as she fished her cell phone out of her pocket. Boomer looked over his 3DS at her. She opened her phone and typed hurriedly on the keyboard.  
"Who is it?"  
"It's Blossom, she wants me to come home for something," She sighed as she closed her phone again. "I'm sorry, Boom. I'll come over later."  
"It's fine," He creaked.  
"Bye bye!" Bubbles said as she waved. He didn't even get in a goodbye before she flew out of his room and down the stairs. He closed his 3DS and laid it back on his nightstand. His blue eyes scanned the posters on his walls, some from games and some from bands. They completely covered the white walls, not a sliver of the paint showing between them. He picked up the pillow off the ground and held it over his head.  
"I wish I had more friends..."


	4. Butch Mitchelson

"So glad I graduated last year."  
"Lucky ass."  
"Don't worry dude, last year. You'll get it."  
Butch buried his hands in the pockets of his green-stained jeans. "I hope. I have no idea what my old man's gunna do if I don't pass."  
"Fuck him," She scoffed.  
"I don't want to go home, but I have to," He groaned.  
"Sorry." She floated up and put her arm around his shoulder. "Damn boy, did anyone ever tell you you're fucking tall? What are you, even?"  
"6'8", I think. I don't know, it's been a while."  
"Christ."  
"Yeah, I get that." She patted his back.  
He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "Hey, B.C.?"  
"Yeah?"  
"You think you could stay for a bit today?"  
She looked away uneasily. "Yeah, I guess. I just really don't like being around your dad."  
"I know, I don't either."  
She felt around in her pocket. "Yeah, I think I could."  
"Thanks." He said quietly.  
A few moments of awkward, silent walking passed before Buttercup spoke up again. "So, yeah, how was your first day back?"  
"Eh, pretty okay. All elective shit except for that chemistry class."  
"Sweet. How's the chem class? You get one of the easy teachers?"  
"Yeah, Ms. Anna."  
"Nice."  
"Yeah, too bad I sit next to this fuckin' asshole. Fuckin' picked on this guy we sit with for no goddamn reason."  
"Ah fuck."  
"Yeah, he's got like fucking red eyes."  
"Wait, what? What's his name?"  
"Brick, I think."  
"Holy shit, I know that guy."  
He stared at her. "What?"  
"Yeah, he's a friend of my sister's. He's alright, just really grumpy."  
"Still, no reason to fuckin' harass that poor guy. He was nice-lookin', too."  
"Who, Brick?"  
"No, this short blonde guy."  
"That's gay, dude." She smiled.  
"Yeah, I know." He cackled. "It's been a while since I dated a guy. You think I should go for it?"  
"I dunno, dude. If you want."  
"Oh god, we're here." He cut in.  
She stopped and looked at him. "Calm down, dude. We've done this before."

* * *

Butch slid his twitching hand over the knob to the trailer door. Buttercup reached up and massaged his shoulder.  
"Fuck, why can't I stop twitching?" He said under his breath. He opened the door and the smell of cigarettes plowed like a semi into their noses.  
"Hey Mitch," Buttercup waved.  
"Hey B.C.," He called out from behind the broken-down kitchen island.  
"Is Dad home yet?"  
"Nah, he has to stay late." Butch stopped twitching.  
"Hey dude, go on, I'll catch up. I gotta talk to Mitch about somethin'."  
"Alright." Butch disappeared behind a door down the narrow hall.  
Buttercup went over to his brother and dug around in her jeans pocket before producing a couple of $20 bills.  
"This month's payment?" He asked expectantly.  
"Yeah, there you go. You know the usual, keep your trap shut." She plunked the cash into his outstretched hand.  
"Yup, I know the drill."


	5. Cheesy Biscuits

**I'm sorry to inform I don't know the frequency of when I'll be able to update anymore. I am homeless and searching for some shelter to stay, and if I get accepted into one, I won't have the time I have now to write. I am not giving up on this story, I'm sorry if I don't update for a while.**

* * *

"I'm here," She said as she slid in through the door. "Sorry 'bout that."  
Butch nodded, and dropped onto his bed. "I'm fuckin' sick to my stomach."  
"What's wrong?"  
"We gotta go to dinner with my mom next Monday." He covered his face with his hands.  
"Oh god," She ran a hand through her hair.  
"So yeah, that's gunna be fun." He sat up on the edge of his mattress. "I wish I still had my job."  
"Oh yeah, I forgot to ask. Why'd they fire you?"  
"I don't know. They just did." Butch sighed. "And now, no one else will hire me, and my dad keeps giving me shit over it."  
Buttercup sat beside him and rubbed his shoulder. "Well, fuck your dad. You need to move out, dude."  
"I don't have anywhere to go."  
"Well, I - oh shit, one second." Buttercup pulled her ringing phone out of her pocket and flipped it open. "Bloss, why the hell are you texting me?" She muttered.  
"What's up?"  
"Blossom wants me to come home for something 'important'."  
"You can't stay?"  
"Nah, she's gunna roast my ass, you'd think she was my mom or something." Buttercup stood up. "Don't worry dude, you'll be okay."  
Butch rubbed the back of his neck and awkwardly held his arms out. She responded, giving him a big, hard hug. "See you later."

* * *

The room was dark, the television's volume too low to be made out. Two brothers sat on a beaten-up couch, one smoking a cigarette, and the other fidgeted and twitched.  
Mitch blew some smoke out and looked at his brother. "Man, Dad's gunna have your ass. You know he doesn't like you wearin' makeup, dude."  
"I'm not wearing anything."  
"Dude, your eyelids are fucking dark as shit."  
"I don't sleep good."  
"Whatever, then." Mitch dug in the box for another cigarette and tucked it into Butch's hand. "Here, man."  
He looked at it, before reluctantly reaching for the lighter on the table. He didn't smoke often, and neither did Mitch. However, tonight they were in tucked into stiff buttonups and the nicest pair of pants they could find, and their dad would be home with their mom any minute now. He put the end in his mouth and lit it up.  
"Where are they...?" His brother muttered before taking another lungful.  
"Maybe they crashed and died," He said darkly.  
"Pfft, in my dreams."  
Butch watched the smoke drift off his cigarette into the dimly lit room. One sole lamp, small and probably older than the pair, sat on the kitchen counter behind them. The bulb itself was a dark orange from age, and it flickered more than fake lighting in a haunted house.  
Neither of them said another word until their dad opened the door, motioning for them to come outside. The boys put their cigarettes out.

* * *

"Russell?"  
"What?"  
"Promise me nothing will happen tonight."  
"Yeah, sure."  
Mitch and Butch shared a look from the back.  
The Red Lobster was almost at closing time, and the restaurant itself was dark, with small, cool-white lamps all around the walls. The woman and her ex-husband walked up to the line behind the counter, muttering to each other. Their sons went straight for the lobster tank like old times, watching the pre-cooked dinners float around aimlessly in the cool, blue water.  
Butch found a lobster with a green band around its claws, and he smiled. "Hey, bud."  
"Mmmm... I'm hungry. Mom's buying, right?" Mitch tapped his brother's shoulder.  
"Yeah, you think Dad would ever buy here?"  
Mitch snorted.

* * *

Russell and his ex-wife slid into one side of the booth, and his pair of sons took the other side.  
"Order anything you'd like, I'm buying tonight." Her sons nodded in response. The table grew quiet as the family hid behind their menus.  
Butch peeked over the top of his and looked at his tablemates. He looked out of place and he knew it. Not only was he taller than everyone else, but he didn't look like any of them, either. He knew he was adopted, but he didn't want to look like it. A fleeting whim crossed his mind, maybe he could dye his hair brown at least. Maybe he'd fit in then.  
"Where is that goddamn waiter?" His dad broke the silence.  
"Please, don't start this. They're busy. She'll be over in a minute." His dad muttered and buried himself back behind the menu. She turned to her boys. "So, how old are you boys, again? It's been a while."  
"It's been three months, mom." Mitch said flatly. Her smile didn't waver, as if she was still expecting an answer.  
Butch groaned and spoke up. "I'm 19, Mitch is 20."  
"Aren't you still in high school, though? You can't be that old."  
"Butch is, but I'm not. And he's only in school because the dumbass failed a year."  
"Thanks," His brother growled at him.  
"Shut up, Butch, you know he's right." Their dad joined in. "You don't got the intelligence God gave a fucking brick. It's a miracle you know how to feed and dress yourself."  
Butch seethed. "Shut the fuck up, old man."  
"Russell, please stop."  
"Sorry for speaking the truth. Dunno why I'm even still paying for that shithead to exist. Can't keep a job. Might as well kick him out on the street. At least Mitch works."  
"Where would he even go? You're gunna do that to your own kid?" Butch stared at his brother in disbelief. He couldn't remember the last time Mitch defended him.  
"Not my problem."  
Butch opened his mouth but was cut off by the waiter stopping by. She took their menus and orders, and flew off to bring them their drinks and biscuits in one fluid motion. No one spoke another word of that conversation for the rest of the night, save for Russell giving Butch dark stares from across the table.


	6. Hot Pockets

"So, is he dead or what?"  
Butch lay face-flat on the table. The spikes of his hair laid on Brick's blank and forgotten assignment.  
"You okay?" Boomer nudged his shoulder. A long, low groan emerged from underneath. "Is that a no?"  
"Leave me alone." Boomer raised his hand and froze.  
"Don't worry about him, he'll be okay." Brick said as he leaned back in his chair, placing a grey sneaker on the table edge. Butch straightened up finally, and glared down the redhead. "What?"  
"What happened, dude?" Boomer's voice creaked.  
"Family shit," He replied before dropping his head into his folded arms.  
"So you're just going to sit there and mope about it?"  
"Shut the fuck up, Brick."  
Boomer looked away and curled up in his chair.  
"Oh, don't you start moping too, blondie."  
"Just... shut up." Boomer took off his glasses and buried his face into his knees. Butch turned his face towards him.  
"What's up with you, man?" He said, barely audible.  
"Tired," He lied. Butch grunted and sunk his green eyes back into the dark void hidden under his arms.

* * *

Butch grabbed his foam tray off the metal shelf and turned his gaze to the cafeteria. He didn't feel sitting by the usual band of assholes he hung out with, especially since one of them appeared to include an ex-boyfriend of his in his place. Outside it was, then.

Through the glass doors and out to the few tables that rested outside next to the soda machines. A few stragglers hung out by the brick walls of the gym, and a lone diner sat at the only table in the shade. Blonde hair, blue eyes, glasses, quiet.  
"Hey, aren't you Boomer?" He asked as he strolled up next to the table.  
"You remembered my name," He smiled.  
"It's cool if I sit here, right?"  
"Yeah, go ahead. It's kinda lonely, anyway."  
Butch sat down next to the blonde and tore into his fries.  
"Feeling better?" He quivered slightly.  
"Yeah," He stared off to the side.  
"That's good." He turned his blue eyes back on his tray. "Uh... hey. Do you want my hot pocket? I don't like them."  
"Sure." Butch grabbed the hot pocket and bit down on it. "So apparently, my old group of assholes I used to call friends replaced me. With my fuckin' ex, figures. Ah well, wasn't that close to them, I guess."  
"Your ex?"  
"Yeah."  
"Are you... with anyone now?" Shit, he thought. He would have slapped himself for asking if he could.  
"Nah, I just broke up with my girlfriend not too long ago. We were better off friends, anyway."  
"Doesn't sound like much of a friend."  
"Oh, no, different ex."  
"Oh."  
"You with anyone?"  
Boomer cackled. "No, dude. I've never dated anyone."  
"Damn, sorry man."  
"No, it's okay." He turned his gaze away. "I'm not hungry anymore."  
"You still tired?"  
"Huh?"  
"I know a good place we can nap."


	7. Under the Bleachers

"Class is going to start soon," Boomer's voice echoed throughout the gym.  
"So you've never played hookey before?"  
"Had nowhere to play it," He sounded distant. "I don't mind, though. I was just -"  
"Here we go!" Butch stood at the side of the bleachers. They ran all the way up to the high ceiling, and they were partially extended. The sunlight from the giant glass windows shone underneath them.  
"Whoah."  
"This is my favorite place to sleep," He turned to Boomer and smiled.  
"Not a bed?" He smirked. Butch's smile fell, and the blonde looked away.  
"Nah, bed's too soft," He half-smiled. Their eyes met again, and Butch then ducked underneath a metal bar and snuck in. The blonde leaned over and followed him. He couldn't help looking at Butch's ass and he accidentally tripped over a bar on the floor.  
"Ah, fuck!"  
"Are you okay, dude?" Butch turned around to look.  
"Yeah, I'm okay," He stood up again and laughed nervously. Butch plunked down on the hardwood floor and laid back. Boomer sat next to him and turned to him.  
"So, how's your life been, man?" Butch rolled over to face him.  
"Okay, I guess. Not different."  
"Cool, cool."  
"Hey, Butch?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Are you sure you're better?"  
Butch sat up and ruffled the blonde's mop. "Yup, sure am."  
"Are... are we friends?"  
"Sure."  
"So, you... uh... wanna come to my house later? Like... I've got a lot of video games, and I... I think we could hang out for a while... if you can't, I understand, I just-"  
"Calm down, dude. Yeah, I can hang out. I don't wanna go home, anyway."  
"Why not?"  
"It's nothing. Now come on, lay down. Let's get some rest."

* * *

His eyes fluttered open, and realized a small arm and hand was wrapped tightly around his solid middle. "Boomer?" He sat up and looked over to the smaller, chubby boy behind him. He was peaceful, his shaggy blonde hair falling in his face. He smiled sleepily.  
A sharp noise split the air. The air that was unusually dark. Butch looked around frantically.  
It was night-time, and someone was closing the bleachers fast.  
"Stop fucking closing the fucking bleachers!" He cried out as he slammed his fists into the looming wall. No one was listening to him. He jumped to his feet but smacked his head on a metal bar and fell back to the ground. His vision was blurry, and all he could see was the inside of the bleacher seats closing in, pressing in on him, crushing him...

"Butch! Wake up, man!"  
He shot up and gasped for air.  
"It's okay, man! You're okay!"  
He turned to Boomer, who was grasping his shoulder. "Thank you," He quivered.  
"Nightmare?" He said softly.  
"Yeah."  
"It's almost time to go home..."  
"Oh, shit." Butch slowly got to his feet and checked for any offending metal bars. The pair ran out from behind the bleachers and straight into a pep rally that was near its end.  
"Oh, god, I forgot that was today," Boomer groaned.  
"C'mon, it's almost over." Butch grabbed the blonde's hand and led him out through the crowd. Boomer shivered. He hated being around crowds, but Butch's hand was distracting him enough to keep his mind off the panic. It was warm and strong, and his long fingers were deeply intertwined with his own short, pained ones. "What bus do you ride?"  
"What?"  
"What bus do you ride?" Butch yelled over the crowd.  
"54!"


	8. Video Games

"So, where do you live?"  
"Eh, nowhere. Just some place outside of the city. I usually get a walk home with a friend, but, you know." Butch motioned to his conversation partner.  
"Sorry."  
"Don't say sorry. This is fun. I haven't been on a bus in forever."  
"Nah, it sucks. No one even sits by me. Ever."  
He elbowed Boomer. "Well, I'm here now," He chuckled. "Might even start riding it home."  
"What about your friend?"  
"She'll be okay. We hang out all the time anyway. Got a new friend to hang out with."  
Boomer smiled and then turned his gaze to the window. Butch looked down and fiddled with his cell phone.  
"So... what kind of games do you like?"  
Butch shrugged in response. "I don't know, man. I never got to own too many games. I like Zelda, though."  
"Oh, I have a lot of Zelda games."  
"I noticed." Butch thumped the blonde's backpack. They both laughed quietly.  
"Dude, that's an old-ass phone," Boomer said, pointing and gaping at the cellular.  
"Yeah, can't afford a new one."  
"Oh."  
"Yeah."

* * *

Butch pushed open the door and gawked at his surroundings. "Dude, your house is so fucking nice."  
"It's just a plain old townhouse." Boomer turned and locked the door behind them. Just as he turned back around, a short woman with equally short black hair and bright blue eyes stepped into the living room.  
"Hi honey, who's this?"  
"This is Butch. He's my friend." Butch shot her a huge grin and a hearty wave.  
"Butch?"  
"Yeah, cool to see you, Mrs -"  
"I'm not married." She chirped. She stepped in front of the taller male, eyeing him up and down. "So you're Butch, hmm?"  
"Uh... yeah?"  
"May I talk to you alone?"  
"Okay?"  
"I'll... go upstairs. My room is the first on the right."  
"Okay."

* * *

"Butch, I need to ask you a favor."  
"Huh?"  
"Don't get too close to my son. It'll be better for everyone. I just don't think this friendship is the best for him."  
"What? Why?" Butch's eyebrows dropped.  
"Well, Boomer is very confused about himself lately, and I especially don't want you getting involved with him. I need you to trust me on this."  
"But he has no fucking friends!"  
"Please don't swear in my house, or I'll have to ask you to leave."  
"I can't even hang out with him? I don't want to go home."  
"For today. But please, don't come back. My son doesn't need a male friend."  
"Why the -" A cold stare. "-uh, heck not?"  
"Because I said so. I need you to trust me, remember? You don't remember me? You were in my kindergarten class, Ms Keane."  
"Yeah, I do. You failed me, twice."  
"I didn't make that decision, Butch."

* * *

Butch headed up the stairs and tore open the door to Boomer's bedroom.  
"Your mom is fucking nuts."  
Boomer looked up from the television at him. "Yeah, I know."  
"She said you're confused about something. I don't fucking know. She doesn't want me hanging around you." He closed the door behind him and dropped his phone on Boomer's bed. "Maybe she can tell I'm trailer trash or something."  
"No, that's not - wait, trailer trash?"  
"I live in a fucking trailer park, big shit."  
"Oh... I'm sorry."  
"Don't be. But why the fuck did she say you're confused?" He sat down on the ground next to the blonde.  
"I came out to her a few weeks ago. She didn't take it well."  
"Came out?"  
"Yeah, I'm... gay." His voice faltered.  
"Oh, okay, well, that explains why she doesn't want you having guy friends."  
"Bleh," Boomer scoffed. "So, anyway, I picked out a game I think you'd like. It's called Dragon Age 2. Ever heard of it?"  
"Nah, sounds cool, though."  
"Yeah, it's a lot of combat and quests, and you can romance someone too." He handed his new friend a paper book opened to the centerfold. "Here's the romance options for guys, I mean, if you're interested. You don't have to, but it's really cool and..."  
Butch took the book and scanned the photos. "Oh hey, who's this guy?" He pointed to an elf with white hair.  
"Him? That's Fenris. That's who I go after, actually."  
"Sweet. I wanna fuck him. Can I fuck him?"  
"Yep, but why would you? I thought you said you had an ex-girlfriend."  
"I'm pan."  
"Huh?"  
"Pansexual, dummy." Butch put a palm on Boomer's shoulder and playfully pushed him.  
"Oh, okay." Boomer giggled. He gave the controller to him as the game booted up. As Butch fiddled with the options for the player character, Boomer couldn't help but gaze at his concentrated face. His tongue hung out just a little, unnoticed. And it was adorable.

He could get used to having friends.


	9. One in a Million

He had always felt weird around brick walls, but a good weird. As he leaned his head against the cool, sturdy wall, he felt at one with it. He felt solid and real. Brick against brick.  
His red baseball cap faced front for once. As his face was shrouded in shadow, the night was his. His hands were buried deep in the pockets of his grey board shorts, and his hoodie was sloppily tied around his waist. He felt like he owned the world.

To his side leaned another male, one he couldn't even recall the name of. He was clearly older, but still young. The two shared a look before the other guy handed the redhead a bottle and two packs of cigarettes before taking off down the unforgiving street. Brick popped the top off the bottle and threw his head back. The cool, stinging liquid rushed down his throat until there wasn't a drop left in the bottle. He slid both packs of cigarettes into his right pocket and threw the empty bottle at the wall. The glass shattered and tinkled down to the ground. The brick wall still stood, obviously. And that made him smile.

He leaned back on the wall and was about to reach for a cigarette when a familiar faced passed by.  
"Buttercup?"  
The girl turned to meet him and waved. "Hey, dude. What are you doing out here?"  
"Just hangin'. The fuck are you doing out here?" He smirked.  
"Just gonna buy some soda down at the 7-11. Wanna come?"  
"Yeah, sure."

* * *

The glass door slid open and the pair got a smack in the nose courtesy of typical gas station smell. The two quickly made their way to the drink section and Buttercup lifted up a twelve-pack with one finger.  
"Think this is enough?" She grinned.  
He rolled his eyes. "If you're gonna show off, at least do something impressive."  
"Okay." Buttercup threw Brick up high enough to catch him on one finger.  
"What the fuck?! Put me down, goddammit!"  
She sat him back on the ground and the two glared at each other long and hard before erupting into laughter.

* * *

The side wall of a 7-11 is the perfect place to watch cars go by. And many cars did pass by as Brick and Buttercup enjoyed two cold sodas as they melted into the concrete wall behind them.  
After taking a deep sip, the redhead turned to his friend. "It would be so fucking cool to have superpowers."  
Buttercup froze.  
"What?"  
"Nothing, just... yes, it is pretty fucking cool. Lucky me, poor you."  
"Ah, shut up." He punched her shoulder and the two giggled.  
"I should really be heading home, though."  
"Already?"  
"Bubbles wanted a pizza party. We had no soda."  
"Oh." Brick turned away.  
"Don't worry dude, we're gonna start hanging out more. Count on it."  
"Yeah, sure."  
She gave him a shoulder hug and then zipped off down the road. Brick watched her lime streak fade into the night air, and let out a soft sigh.


	10. Trailer Trash

Boomer was already panting from the long walk when the strong stench of cigarettes assaulted his nose. The trailer was small and cramped, and he bumped into the couch trying to follow Butch to his bedroom.  
"Hey bro, who's this?" Mitch called out from the hall.  
"This is Boomer," Butch pointed back at him. "He's a friend of mine."  
"Boomer, you say?" Mitch speed-walked to Boomer and stared him straight in the face. "Don't get too close to Butch. He's a shithead." He bumped himself by Boomer as he cackled.  
"Ignore the giant talking tampon." Butch rolled his eyes. He grabbed Boomer's hand as he snorted and led him into his small room.

* * *

"Your room is kinda nice," Boomer said quietly.  
"You don't have to lie," Butch chuckled as he slid off his giant boots.  
"Why do you guys live in such a small place?"  
Butch tossed his boots to a corner. "Because we're poor as shit."  
"Oh."  
"Don't worry about it, we get by. It's meh. We've always gotten by." He tossed a small blue square to his companion. "I'm sorry I don't have a lot of gaming stuff, but I've got an SP. You can use it. There's also a SNES hooked up in the living room, but you can only play it until my dad gets home."  
"Your dad?" Boomer looked up from the SP questioningly.  
"Yeah?" Butch threw himself onto his floor mattress.  
"What's up with him?" Boomer sat on the ground next to him.  
"He's a diseased rat in a human suit." He scoffed. "An ugly-ass human suit, too."  
"What do you mean?" The blonde cocked his head to one side.  
"He's an asshole, Boomer." He narrowed his eyes. "He'd fucking yell at you just for being over. He comes home at 6, you gotta leave before then."  
"I'm sorry."  
"Don't be," Butch said as he stretched. "Make yourself comfortable, though."  
"The floor is kinda hard," Boomer said, "could I lay on the bed with you?"  
"Go for it."  
Boomer stood up and laid down next to Butch. "Your bed is really comfy. And your room smells really nice."  
"Glad you like it. Plus, I like, fucking empty cans of air freshener in here so I don't have to smell the smoke."  
Boomer rolled over on his side to face the green-eyed boy. "You know, you're the only friend of mine who hung out with me."  
"Really?"  
"Well, there's one girl, but... we're not that close."  
"How come no one's hung out with you?"  
"No one's ever wanted to before."  
"And why the fuck not? Dude, you're fucking adorable."  
Boomer blushed and pouted. "I'm not fucking adorable."  
"Yep, sure are." He laughed.  
"Am not!" He punched Butch's shoulder and the two of them roughhoused for a little bit before reclining again.  
"You know, I really hate being single."  
Boomer's eyes shot up and widened. "What?"  
"I don't know, I'm really lonely."  
"Uhm..."  
"What?"  
"Well... I like you, if you're... you know... you don't have to, though, but I was just thinking, and-"  
"Well that works out pretty damn good."  
The blonde smiled nervously.  
"Alright, cool." Butch leaned forward and pecked Boomer's lips. The blonde froze and stared at him. "What?"  
"No one's kissed me before," He said breathlessly.  
"Oh yeah," Butch sighed. "Then how about I give you a proper kiss?" He climbed on top of Boomer and pressed his lips deeply into his. He then rolled off into the floor before standing up again.  
"Th-that was nice, can we do that more?"  
Butch just laughed.

* * *

The taller male glanced over at his alarm clock before darting up.  
"Shit, it's after 6. Okay, we need to get you out of here." Butch grabbed Boomer's arm and his backpack and led him out the door. Butch's dad was already plopped down on the living room couch, smoking another cigarette. He stood up and planted himself directly in the pair's path.  
"Who is this?"  
"A friend. He needs to go home."  
"Damn right he does. I thought I fucking told you, no people over here. You may be bigger now boy, but I will still beat your worthless ass if I have to."  
Boomer opened his mouth to speak, but Butch just rushed him along to the door.  
"And I swear to god, if I found out you're bringing boys back there in your room and running a faggot camp, I'm killing all of you."  
Butch just quietly pulled his new boyfriend out of the door.  
"Butch-"  
"Let's just take you the fuck home," Butch quivered as he talked more to the pavement than Boomer.

* * *

"Is he always like this?"  
Boomer's soft, high voice shattered the strained silence that had dominated the pair since they left the trailer park.  
"No."  
"Then what was wrong with-"  
"He's usually worse." Butch leaned back and spat on the ground before walking forwards again. Silence bathed them again until the blonde gathered the courage to speak again.  
"I don't think you're worthless."  
Butch looked back over his shoulder. "Thanks."


	11. Sour Funk

**ONE MONTH LATER**

* * *

Boomer played with his pained thumbs. It was really warm this morning and the fan had broken in the classroom. His bracelets lay scattered to the side to allow his wrists to breathe.  
He was a ball of nerves, with a dull ache in the pit of his stomach. He and Butch hadn't talked since Friday, and he had grown accustomed to calling every night after his dad allowed him to have a cell phone two weeks ago. A long, empty weekend left him feeling depressed and lonely.  
What if his dad did something to him? What if he found out? What if he's...  
A loud slam at the door shook him from his thoughts. Butch slugged himself across the floor, hunched over and looking hung over. He dropped his body into the seat next to Boomer and held his head in his hands.  
"Hi, babe." Boomer said sweetly. A muffled grunt came from behind his large hands. "I missed you. Are you okay?"  
Butch rubbed his eyes and leaned back. "I've been better."  
"What happened?"  
"Don't want to talk about it."  
Boomer grabbed his hand and held it under the table. "Can... Can I do anything?"  
"No."  
He looked away sadly.  
A sudden loud thump caught both of their attentions, and they glanced up in unison at a very satisfied-looking Brick.  
"Well boys, guess what."  
"Hm?" Boomer answered so Butch didn't have to.  
"Me and Buttercup are officially a thing," He boasted as he leaned back in his chair. Butch clenched Boomer's hand tighter before sitting up at glaring at the redhead.  
"She deserves better."  
"Yeah, yeah, she's like your sister, if I break her heart, you'll beat me up, all that shit. Lay off it. I care about her, don't worry."  
"I wasn't gonna say that. I don't have to touch you, she'll flatten you into the ground herself."  
"I know, man." Brick rested his head on folded hands. "Look, I really love her, okay? Don't get all pissed at me like normal. Speaking of which, what the fuck is wrong with you?"  
Butch slumped back. "Nothing is."  
"Yeah, I believe that. Family issues? Anything you wanna say? Oh god, I sound like your dad."  
"No you don't." Butch and Boomer said in unison before the blonde let go to awkwardly cough.  
"Christ, you two went straight past dating and into twin territory. Whatever."  
Boomer forced out a laugh and Butch remained emotionless. He couldn't be assed to feel anything right now.

* * *

The trio had gotten used to sitting at lunch together now, their routine being Brick boasting about his alleged street life, to Butch calling bullshit, to Boomer laughing his ass off. Butch would then pull out three small squirt bottles and fill them up with water from the drinking fountain. And as the sun beat down on them in the ripe midday, they'd run around the concrete and grass spraying water all over each other.  
However, today, they ate in silence as Butch ignored his food and sulked. Neither one of them could get an answer out of him.  
Boomer picked up a half-filled bottle and squirted a little at Butch's face. Butch shot back and laughed a little before returning to his place. The blonde sighed and placed the bottle back on the table before them.  
Butch grabbed the bottle and pulled the top off and dumped it onto Boomer's head.  
"Payback," He grinned.  
Boomer looked up at him through long blonde strands of sopping wet hair and soaked glasses.  
"Asshole," He said as he giggled.


	12. The Night Before

It's cold, and it's dark. It's one of those nights again. Every time he closes his eyes, he can feel it. He can vaguely feel two explosions around him as his own body rips up from the inside. It's a horrifying feeling, spreading terror throughout his small, six-year-old body. And after the pain stops, he's locked into darkness. It's comforting, but still scary. It surrounds him, and chokes him, until he bursts awake and tears the covers off his shaking, sweaty body. He throws himself to the floor in an attempt to escape. He gets back on his feet and tears through the small trailer into his grandmother's room. In a frenzy, he wakes her up.  
They pile into a small, old chair. He sits in her lap. He's crying, screaming, twitching, shaking, unable to speak. She holds him close and rubs his head, cooing to him that it'll be okay. That he's safe, and awake.  
Half an hour later, they're asleep. Small head on shoulder, old arm protectively laid across.

Morning comes, and it's time for school. Another little boy emerges, unaware of last night's events. He strolls up to the chair and utters a good morning to his grandmother, only to find the pair still fast asleep. He shakes and shakes, eventually waking his brother up, but not his grandmother.  
And as his brother comes to, he feels cold arms on him. He doesn't feel her chest moving, but he doesn't understand that. He wriggles out from underneath her arms and looks at his brother.  
"Just let her sleep." One of them say, neither of them can recall who. The boys rush off to first grade, and tell their friends about how grandma is happily snoozing, and how weird it is that she's so cold. It's not long after they are sent home, and grandma is taken away. Some strange woman comes to stay with the brothers, until someone they call their dad moves in.  
It took a few years for that boy to fully realize what had happened that day.

* * *

Boomer awoke to the sound of his cellphone practically melting into his dresser. It was 4am on a Friday night, and he was groggy as hell. He grabbed it and squinted at the screen, half out of vision problems and half out of the harsh lighting. The little nickname Boomer had bestowed on Butch, "French Fry", blared on the screen. He hit answer immediately. Before he could answer, the deep, gravelly voice on the other end sputtered.  
"It's so fucking cold," He whimpered.  
"Butch, calm down, it's okay." He said softly as he laid down and dug back under his blankets.  
"I f-felt it again. I can't stop, twitching. I'm... always twitching. Wh-what do I do?"  
"Shhhh, it's alright. You're awake and you're okay."  
"Can we meet?" He panted.  
"Sure." Boomer sighed a little to himself. "7-11?"  
"Thanks," He choked before ending the call. Boomer sat up and reluctantly pulled the covers off. Jeans, a hoodie, and his glasses were removed from their spot on the floor. He slinked down the stairs and made a beeline for the door. As he stepped out, the cool summer night air drenched him. Another soft, blue hoodie hung from his hand. One street away sat a small 7-11, open all hours of the night. Butch was already there somehow, collapsed into himself.  
Boomer walked up and slid his arms around his waist.  
"I brought you something." He backed away and slid the hoodie over Butch's head. It was too short, not exactly reaching his waist, but it was baggy. Butch hugged himself in it, and his twitching slowed down.


	13. The Morning After

Butch rolled over in his bed to taste the morning. The blanket was thrown onto the floor, and he was shivering even through the heat. He was still wrapped up in Boomer's hoodie, but his pants had somehow made it to the other side of the room, leaving him in his boxer briefs. He looked over the hoodie itself, which was a dark cerulean. The color blue put him at ease so much lately.  
He sat up and rubbed his face. He could feel his hair twist and matt on his head - he had fallen asleep with hair gel in again.

* * *

After a bathroom break, Butch dunked his jet black hair under the faucet. The cool water ran over his head, down his face, and splashed softly into the sink below. He stood up straight to see himself in the mirror only to find Mitch had snuck in and was standing right by him.  
"Morning." He said, a hint of irritation in his voice.  
"Mornin'," Butch groaned.  
"So, hate to tell you this now."  
"Then don't, and fuck off." He splashed water on his face.  
"Really? You don't want to know about your parents?"  
Butch dropped his hands and turned to the brunette. "What?"  
"Had to do some research for school... picked some public documents from the government archive... found out something very interesting about Mr. Butch Mitchelson." Mitch's mouth curved into a smirk. "If that is your real name."  
"Go fuck yourself, you didn't." He turned around and headed for the door.  
"Did you know you had a whole family? You were taken from them."  
He looked over his shoulder. "What?"  
"Yep. There's a lot more to the story though, that I can't say. But you're in luck, because the info is for sale."  
Butch scoffed and put his hand on the door.  
"Only $40. You'd be this month's highest bidder."  
"Sit on a cactus," Butch growled under his breath before leaving the bathroom.

* * *

"So I can't come over today?"  
"I'm sorry, Professor's having some scientist nerd friends over. But I can come over there."  
"I can't just sneak over?"  
"Brick, why are you so touchy about me going there? You don't think I know your mom is the mayor's assistant? I grew up helping her, you know."  
"I know, I know."  
"So let me come over if you want to hang out today."  
Brick held his cell away from his face and groaned loudly.  
"I can hear that, you know."  
"Fine, come over."  
"Thank you."

* * *

"See, did the world fucking end?" Buttercup quipped as she slid in through the front door.  
"Yes." Brick mumbled.  
"Any reason why you're extra grumpy today?"  
"I'm not grumpy."  
"You say grumpily, with a grumpy expression." She laughed.  
"Fuck you."  
"Gladly."  
"Wait, what?"  
She wiggled her eyebrows. "I'm down for it. Are you?"  
Brick glanced side to side before putting on his best bedroom face, which prompted her to laugh hysterically.  
"Come on, are we doing this or not?"


	14. Double Andrew Jacksons

"Come on man, just take the damn money."  
"No, Brick, I said shut the fuck up. Mitch isn't going to tell me jack shit, and you know it. Keep your money."  
Brick rolled his eyes and groaned dramatically. "Butch, for the love of christ-"  
"Where did you even get that? You're always going on about how you don't have fucking anything, use it to get yourself something."  
"Look, a guy owed me a favor, alright?"  
"Why do you even fucking care?"  
"Butch, please just take the money," Boomer sighed. "He's not going to shut up about it until you do."  
Butch turned to the blonde and threw his hands up at Brick. "There's no need to! Just make him keep his damn money. He doesn't even give a fuck."  
"You think I don't? Why the fuck would I be offering you $40 to pay your piece of shit brother to tell you about your fucking family?"  
"I shouldn't have ever mentioned it." Butch threw himself back into his chair and sulked.  
"Dude, he's not going to let up. What do you have to lose?"  
"$40 and my dignity. Mitch isn't gonna do anything."  
"How do you know?" Boomer folded his arms.  
"Why else would he ask for money? Why would you ask for cash if you knew something that worthless about someone else?"  
"Obviously, it's not worthless to you." Brick said, a little calmer than his earlier tone. Butch looked up at him.  
"Why would it be anything but? Why would I care?"  
"Babe, if you didn't care, you wouldn't have came into class this morning bothered by it," Boomer said before sighing again. "Just please, take the damn money."  
"But... I..." Butch's eyes darted back and forth between the two frantically. He sighed, hunched over, and reluctantly took the two twenty-dollar bills out of Brick's hand.  
"Also, there's an extra $3 in there. Go get us some soda from the vending machine in the cafeteria, and we'll call it even."  
Butch stood up from the lunch table and sulked off into the building nearby.

* * *

"Mitch?" Butch called out cautiously as he knocked on his brother's bedroom door.  
"The fuck do you want?"  
He hesitated before answering. "I... I got the money."  
The door flew open and Mitch smiled, but strangely enough not his usual shit-eating grin. He took the $40 out of Butch's hand and patted his rickety computer chair. "Have a seat."  
Butch awkwardly stuffed himself into the chair, and his stomach sunk into his feet.  
"Everything you'll want to know is here on this paper." The brunette handed him a small, folded slip of paper that was frayed on the ends. "Go ahead, read it."  
Butch stared at Mitch for a second before opening the paper. After reading Mitch's scrawled handwriting, Butch immediately felt regret and anger.  
"The fuck is 'Superhuman Youth Rehabilitation Act?'"  
"It's a nice little title that says you just outbid the person keeping this info from you for another month."  
"What the hell am I supposed to do with this?" Butch yelled.  
"Google it. Make sure you put 'Townsville' in the search too. Go on, use my computer there."  
Mitch's old desktop was already set to Chrome, awaiting a search entry.


	15. The Superhuman Youth Rehabilitation Act

The first result to come up was a Wikipedia link. Mitch placed his hand on the back of the chair heavily and waited.  
"Click that one." He pointed.  
"I know."  
_Click._  
"Read aloud. I wanna see the shock." Butch glanced at him and then shifted his eyes back to the screen.  
"The Superhuman Youth Rehabilitation Act is a piece of legendary yet lesser-known legis... legis..."  
"Legislature."  
"Shut up. Legislature that was put in place to prevent a trio of criminals from terrorizing the city and into favorable environments. It was put in place on September 21st, 1999 in Townsville, North Carolina. What the fuck does this have to do with me?"  
"Keep reading."  
Butch gave a few rolls of the scroll wheel. "The act was formed when three superhumans, similar to the city's protection team, were created. The damage they caused was too great, and the act was proposed and passed. It separated the trio known as "The Rowdyruff Boys" and placed them into different homes. They were also given medication to block their superpowers."  
Butch's blood ran cold.  
"Look at that picture there, dude. Does that seem familiar?"  
He laid eyes on a child that looked exactly like him. Short, spiky black hair, vivid green eyes. The little boy was standing by two others, a redhead with red eyes, and a blonde with blue eyes.  
"Left to right..." Butch gulped. "Brick, Butch, and Boomer."  
"Congratulations, you're a supervillan. And those two dudes you hang around all the time? They're your brothers. You have two dads, an insane green monkey and a gay crab demon."  
Butch sat still, staring down in horror at the desk. He looked back up at the picture and ran his fingers across Boomer's picture.  
"This... this isn't real. It can't be. That could be anyone."  
"Oh by the way, the Girls? They're your counterparts. If you were ever wondering why you looked like a male version of Buttercup, it's because you are."  
He looked up at Mitch, his face still frozen. "W-why are you telling me this now?"  
"Because B.C. didn't pay on time. I thought it would be fun for you to find out. Don't tell anyone or you'll probably get arrested, by the way."  
"Pay?"  
"I get paid a neat sum every month to keep my mouth shut about this."  
"You... knew? All along?"  
"Dude, I knew the Girls before you were even made in that toilet."  
"T-toilet?"  
"Mojo Jojo? That weirdass monkey? He made you and your brothers. In a prison toilet."  
"I... no. No, no, no. No."  
"Yes."  
"No, you're fucking with me. You're fucking with me!" Butch stood up so fast the chair fell over.  
"No, I'm not. Go ask B.C. about it."  
"No, because it's not fucking true, you shitbag!" He yelled, backing up to the window on the opposite wall.  
"Butch, calm the fuck down." Mitch held out his hands towards him.  
"Get the fuck away from me!"  
A moment of silence was shortly sliced by a ringtone blaring through the room. Butch fished it out of his pocket. Boomer's pet name reflected in his eyes.  
"No, no, no..." He chanted as he flung the phone across the room. It hit the wall and fell to the ground. "Oh god, please no..."  
"Calm down, already!" Mitch yelled.  
Butch shoved the brunette aside and peeled down the hall. He dunked himself into the bathroom and kneeled before the toilet. He promptly began to puke.  
"Dude, jesus christ!" Mitch said as he trotted down the hall after him.  
"Leave... me alone," Butch dry-heaved.  
"Dude, why is it a big deal? Just forget about it. If you're worried about banging that blonde guy, you're not really his brother like us normal humans have brothers."  
"No.. I... No... fuck, what... I don't..." He panted.  
"What?"  
"I'm... what the fuck am I? He began to twitch violently. He laid his head on the toilet seat and let the last bit of vile spit slide out of his lips and down into the bowl below. His eyes lay wide, unblinking at Mitch, and his chest pounded.  
"Insane, apparently."  
Butch leaned up and flushed the toilet, then fell further into his own lap and began to sob.  
"Dude, what the hell? Why is this a big deal?" No answer. After a minute of watching Butch break down, Mitch placed the $40 on the counter and left.


End file.
